Tuesday, December 24, 2013

I have often been asked by people why I do not illustrate my own children's stories. This is because they've seen some paintings I did many years ago. Now we all know that a painting does not a children's book illustrator make. So fast forward to last year. I decided to take a couple of art classes towards rediscovering my talent, and hopefully selling paintings as an unknown artist to a gallery, towards making some money. You not sorry for me? I liked the classes but discovered what I knew before, that to pursue painting you have to take time from writing. Also one of the other tutors passed by my painting and stopped to look at it, ( it was a particularly challenging landscape chosen by me), and I chirped up, 'I took A level art', and he replied, 'A level art won't help you with this'. Hilarious, really. I took this as a clear sign that the plan of making some money as an unknown artist wouldn't probably fly.

Fast forward to now. I had wanted to write a new Christmas story, but what with one thing and another, I didn't, so here I am again putting up the same Christmas story, Once Upon a Starlight. However, this time I decided that I'd colour it (as in paint the illustrations). So that's new. I know, guys, 'Don't give up my day job.' I must point out that I did not draw them. I just coloured them, and apologise to the artist should my interpretation not fit with his original thoughts. I do not remember who it was and cannot find my copy of the book. When I do, I'll give him credit. I enjoyed painting the pictures with my acrylic paints bought for the art class. Who knows? Maybe one day I will illustrate some of my work. One of my resolutions for 2014? Not sure about that. So a very Happy Christmas to all my readers. May your wishes also come true.

Once Upon a Starlight

by Diane Browne

Angela pressed her face against the glass of the toy
store window. She looked longingly at the chocolate-coloured doll with the
tight black curls, dressed in a white blouse and frilly red skirt. Oh how she
wanted that doll! But she knew that her parents couldn’t afford to buy it for
her.

It was almost Christmas. The store
windows were draped with coloured paper streamers and shiny bits of tinsel. The
sidewalk stalls had balloons, starlights and paper Christmas hats. The fruit
vendors sat with their piles of pineapples, paw paws, oranges and shiny
tangerines. And there was a tall Christmas tree in the park that shone with
many coloured lights at night.

Angela sighed as she turned away
from the store window. Pushing her way through the crowds of excited Christmas
shoppers, she tried to console herself. She could not have the doll, but she
did have a paper bag with three starlights. They were not little starlights,
but giant ones. Old Miss Hannah, who lived nearby, had given them to her
because Angela had helped her to set up her stall.

When Angela got home her father was
sitting on the verandah. He had been out of work for some time and he looked
very sad. Every day he went looking for work, but he couldn’tfind any. Her mother, who was sitting just
inside the front door, was busy sewing; she was making clothes to sell to the
stores. Angela’s little sister, Carol, ran to meet her.

“What did you buy, Angela?” she
called outwhen she saw the paper bag.

Angela showed her family the
starlights and explained how she had got them. “I am going to light one each
night until Christmas,”she declared

“I’m glad that you will have
something for Christmas,” said her mother, with a sigh “There is no extra money
for presents this year. The money I will get for this sewing will only be
enough to buy us some food. I don’t even know if we will have enough to share
with Miss Hannah. I know she is alone, and we always invite her to eat with us
on Christmas Day ...but things have become so expensive. This has been a hard
year.”

Angela’s father looked even more
sad.

As soon as it was dark Angela went
into the yard to light her first starlight. Carol watched from the front steps
and squeezed her little hands together in excitement.

Angela struck a match and placed it
against the tip of the long starlight. A gentle Christmas breeze dimmed the
flame of the match. Then as it flared again the starlight sparkled and
crackled. Angela held it firmly as hundreds of little lights darted everywhere,
like stars dancing away in the night.

“Swing it around, Angela!” shouted
Carol. “Make the lights spin!”

Angela was just about to twirl the
starlight in wide circles over her head, when she stopped. She blinked; she
could not believe her eyes. There sitting on the top of the starlight was a
little old lady, no bigger than a doctor bird. Her head was tied in a red and
yellow bandana cloth, and she had on a bandana apron over a long blue cotton
dress. Her black face was wrinkled and her eyes twinkled as brightly as the
starlight sparkling around her.

Angela’s heart pounded with fright.

“Don’t be afraid,” said the little
old lady. “I am the Auntie of the Starlight. It was kind of you to help miss
Hannah to set up her stall, and I have come to reward you. Each evening as you
light a starlight I will appear, and each time you may have a wish for
Christmas. What is your first wish, Angela?”

Angela trembled with anticipation as
she thought about the doll in the store window. Then she remembered her father
and how sad he had looked. I still have two other wishes, she said to herself.
Maybe I can use this one for Daddy.

“Can I wish for something for
somebody else?” she asked in a whisper.

“Of course,” replied the Auntie of
the Starlight. “ They are your wishes. You can use them in any way that you
want.”

“Then I wish that Daddy could get a
job,” said Angela breathlessly.

The old lady tossed her head,
showering sparkles of light all over the place. “You may have your wish,” she
said.

And before Angela could thank her,
the starlight spluttered, and the old lady disappeared with the last little
shimmering lights.

“Oh, Angela, that was so pretty!”
cried Carol.

“Did you see her too?” said Angela.

“See who?” asked Carol. “What are
you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing,” replied Angela,
deciding that she must have imagined the whole thing.The next day while Angela’s father went to look for work
as usual, Angela helped her mother with the sewing.

“I’m glad you can hem so well,
Angela,”her mother said.“We must finish these today as tomorrow is
Christmas Eve and I am depending on the money I get for them. Though, how I
will mange to fill my next order, I don’t know. This old sewing machine is
giving trouble and I’m sure it will cost a lot to fix it. I suppose I will just
have to sew everything by hand. But that will take so long that maybe the store
will give the orders to someone else.

“They wouldn’t do that, Mummy,” said
Angela reassuringly, though, to tell the truth, she was not at all sure that
they wouldn’t.

When Angela’s father came home that
evening he looked quite different. He laughed happily as he exclaimed, “I’ve
got a job! It’s at a new factory which needed extra help for Christmas, and if
I work well the job will be permanent.”

Angela’s mother smiled. “I’m so
glad,” she said, “Angela needs shoes to got to school next term and my sewing
machine needs fixing.”

“Well,” replied her father, “I’ll
have enough money for shoes, but that machine is too old now. They don’t even
have parts for it anymore. You really need a new one, but I’ll have to work for
some time before we can think of that.”

“Yes, Iknow ,” her mother said. “Anyway, now we can
invite Miss Hannah to have dinner with us on Christmas Day.”

Suddenly Angela realized that her
first wish had come true. Perhaps she had not imagined the little old lady
after all. Perhaps she would really see the Auntie of the Starlight again.

Angela sat on the front steps
waiting for it to get dark. At last the orange sun melted into the deep blue
sky. Carol clapped her hands with excitement while Angela lit the second
starlight. The breeze rustled through the leaves of the Christmas Bush as the
starlight crackled and sparkled. And then just as before, there on its tip sat
the Auntie of the Starlight.

“Daddy got a job,” said Angela.

“Of course he did,” replied the old
lady. “Now what is your wish this time?”

And just as Angela thought about the
doll in the store window again, she remembered that her mother’s sewing machine
was not working. Well, she said to herself, I still have my third wish. I’ll
use that for the doll.

“If you don’t mind,” she said to the
old lady, “I’d like to use this wish for somebody else also.”

“I don’t mind,” replied the Auntie
of the Starlight. “They are your wishes.”

“Okay, then,”said Angela, “I’d like a sewing machine for
Mummy.”

The old lady tossed her head,
showering sparkles of light all over the place. “You may have your wish,” she
replied.

“Thank you,” said Angela, and just
as before, the starlight spluttered and the little old lady disappeared with
the last little shimmering lights.

Early next morning, Angela, her
mother and Carol delivered the finished clothes to the store. Then they went to
buy the food for Christmas Day. They bought some sorrel and ginger in the
market to make the sorrel drink; they got sweet potatoes from a lady by the
side of the road. Angela’s mother said that even a small ham was too expensive
this year, so they bought a nice big chicken instead. She said Miss Hannah
would probably bring a small Christmas pudding as usual. It would be a great
Christmas after all.

That evening, just as Angela’s mother was crushing
the ginger and Angela and Carol were picking the red sorrel, their father came
home.

“I have a surprise for you,”he said to Angela’s mother with a big smile
on his face. “One of the men at the factory knows a man who sells sewing
machines. He will let us have one since I’m working, and I can pay him a little
each week from my salary. And meanwhile you will have something to use.”

There was a happy light in her
mother’s eyes, and her father’s face shone with pride because once again he
could help his family. Angela knew she had used her first two wishes well, and
now on Christmas Eve she would make her final wish.

She could not stay still. She kept running out into
the yard to look at the sky. Slowly, oh so slowly, it changed from a pale blue
to gray streaked with pink.At last it
was dark.

The two girls stood in the front
yard. Angela took a box of matches from her pocket to light the starlight.

Suddenly Carol said, “Please,
Angela, can I hold the starlight this time?”

“I’m big enough. I’ll be careful,”
cried Carol. “I never got a chance to hold one before. Please, Angela, please!
Let me hold it for just a little.”

Angela thought about the doll. Then
she looked at her sister. Her little body was trembling with excitement and her
eyes pleaded for this chance.

“All right,” sighed Angela, “ but
just for a little. You must give it back to me when I tell you.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you Angela,”
Carol whispered.

After all, Angela said to herself,
it is long enough for both of us to have a turn at holding it. I will still
have a chance to see the Auntie of the Starlight.

The starlight burst into glittering
lights as Carol held it tightly, herface full of delight. The sparks flew in all directions, piercing the
darkness like shooting stars, then disappearing like peenie wallies in the
night.

“This is the most beautiful
starlight!” laughed Carol. “Just look at it, Angela!”

Angela thought that this starlight
did look even more brilliantthan the
others. Then, just as she was about to take it from Carol, the starlight
suddenly spluttered, and with a hissing sound the lights all died away. The
Christmas breeze was now quite strong and Angela wondered if it had blown out
the starlight.

“Is it finished already?” asked
Carol anxiously.

“It can’t be,” replied Angela
sharply, as she took it and looked at it carefully. But the starlight was
already black and twisted. Angela fought back the tears as she struck match
after match, trying to light it. But nothing happened.

“I’m sorry, Angela,” said Carol
softly. “You didn’t get your turn.”

Angela couldn’t bear to make Carol
feel sad, so she tried to smile bravely, as she said, “It’s all right. I had
two already -remember?”

“Then you aren’t vexed?” Carol said
with relief.

“No, of course not,” Angela replied,
as she gave her sister a quick hug. “And this one was especially pretty, just
for you.” Carol’s hesitant smile, which became brighteras she realized that it really was all right,
made Angela feel that perhaps it was better after all, to have made her little
sister happy.

She was very disappointed about the
doll but she was determined not to show it,as the two girls got their clothes ready for church on Christmas
morning.

The first little rays of daylight
were just slipping through the thin curtains at the windows when Angela turned
over and rubbed her eyes. She stretched and yawned, and then she felt something
at the bottom of her bed. She sat up and rubbed her eyes again; and there,
sitting on the old chenille spread, was the doll with the white blouse and the
red frilly skirt. I must be dreaming, Angela thought. But as she ran her hand
over the tight black curls and the smooth chocolate-coloured face, she knew she
was awake. It was not a dream at all.

“Mummy, Daddy!” she called.

Carol, who was awake by now, was
jumping up and down in her excitement. She had discovered another doll in the
folds of the spread. It was a baby doll, just the right size for her.

“Thank you, Mummy and Daddy,” cried
Angela as her parents appeared at the door. “How did you know just what I
wanted?”

“Did you put those dolls there?” their
father asked their mother, laughing.

“It’s a surprise to me,” replied
their mother with a secret smile.

And as Angela hugged her parents,
she thought she saw something darting along a shaft of light and out through
the window; something as small as a doctor bird, except that there was a flash
of red and yellow like bandana cloth.

I wonder if it really could be her?
said Angela to herself with a little smile. I wonder if the Auntie of the
Starlight really was here?

Saturday, December 21, 2013

The Book Industry Association of Jamaica awards took place in
early December. The number of books being entered keeps increasing as do the
self published books. For the purposes of this blog, the most important aspect is that there are more children’s books being
entered, a testament to more being written, self published and published by new, independent
publishers. This is all to the good. Could we be on our way to producing a reading
society?

Here are the results:

Publishing Awards:

Children’s Chapter
Book: No Boy Like Amanda, by Hope
Barnett, published by Becky T. Books

The really great thing about all of this is that we are seeing young,
new writers and publishers entering the arena.It is
good to see that the baton is being passed and passed effectively. Special
praise for Blue Moon Publishing which won in two categories.

Could we be on our way to creating a reading society? What a
something, eh! What a something! Lovely!

Friday, December 13, 2013

Just by chance someone in Barbados saw my Caribbean
children’s literature blog and said ‘The next time you are in Barbados can you
read at my school?’ Her name is Sarah Venable. I replied, ‘I’mgoing to be in Barbados soon’, and as they
say, the rest ... was pure delight for
me, and hopefully for my Barbadian hosts. One of the things that Sarah also
discovered by chance was that I was the author of Sweet, Sweet Mango Tree,
which she had been reading with her group.Serendipity!

I read at two primary schools, Sharon Primary and Blackman
Gollop Primary.

Sarah Venable is at Sharon Primary as a tutor in the
National Cultural Foundation’s Writers in Schools and Education Programme. The
Principal, Mrs. Pamela Small-Williams, welcomed me warmly and I knew from
emails that she was very supportive of my reading for the students. The group of
students consisted of 8-11 year-olds. We
talked a bit about the similarities and differences between Jamaica and
Barbados, and decided that it was mostly a matter of size.

I read a story called Twins in a Twist, (Pearson - Get Caught Reading Series) which I like because
it asks the question, ‘my twin or my team?’ These are bright children and they could
respond to that challenge. We talked about why I wrote that story. (I have twin
brothers; all sorts of things inspire stories). The children had a number of
questions to ask me about writing in general, and about Sweet, Sweet Mango Tree
in particular. They sang their song from Sweet, Sweet Mango Tree for me, and I
loved it. I even had an offer from one young man to publish my books, a thoughtful
response to my indicating the difficulties of getting Caribbean children’s
books published. And I have every hope that when he grows up he will remember
that day and be a champion for children’s stories.

Sarah has written me since then and shared some of their
back-stories to Sweet, Sweet Mango Tree. I found this very exciting and will
perhaps borrow this technique when reading to children here. Most of all, I
enjoyed their enjoyment of meeting a real-life Caribbean children’s author. I
would have loved that as a child; and even as an adult, I am thrilled to meet
an author of a book I like.

Penny Hynam invited me to the Story Club at Blackman Gollop
Primary. Formed under the aegis of the
Barbados chapter of “Be the Change”, the
Story Club consists of volunteers reading to the children once a week after
school and encouraging visual expression with drawing and colouring in response
to the stories. Again I was welcomed by the Principal, Mrs. Joselyn
Brewster, who recognized me as part Barbadian (grandchildren are Barbadian, so
it follows). The Story Club audience consisted of 5-8 year-olds, mostly boys.
Aha! I didn’t think any of the books I had brought with me would hold the
attention of this younger, mostly male group. Then it struck me! Sweet, Sweet
Mango Tree to the rescue. I became the mango tree with whirling arms for
branches, and chanted the song. It was a success.

The second half of their club meeting was to draw something from
the story. Now I had forgotten how good a story Sweet, Sweet Mango Tree is. (I
say this humbly). It is part of the Doctor Bird Reading Series. I had also
forgotten, until I started reading it again, some of the details of the ending.
In the end, Ben, who is a lazy, greedy man, who had been asking the mango tree
for food and other essentials and getting them, oversteps the mark, and asks
for money, money, money. The mango tree rains money down on him and covers him
totally. He is never seen again. Traditional folktale ending for greedy people,
eh! My younglisteners asked what
happened to him. What should I say?It’s
one thing to read it, so you can wonder about it; quite another to have the
author give you a definite answer.‘Why
not draw the ending?’ I said. Well there were various endings, but mainly, Ben
used all the money to get a big house, a big car, a big plane and even to
become a rock star.Modern times!

Stories help our children to utilize their imaginations.
They soon find out that they too can write stories set in their own
environment. They see that their lives can also be in stories. What a wonder! I
enjoyed being in both schools. I was delighted to meet their principals,
clearly both outstanding ladies. I enjoyed meeting the ladies who volunteer for
these reading programmes in schools. I
consider myself very fortunate that Sarah Venable stumbled upon my blog.

What struck me, and what I hope also strikes you is, here is
a story written in Jamaica finding a place in Barbadian schools. I’m sure there
are many stories from all the various territories that can find a place in
other schools in our territories. So
let’s do that, eh. I don’t know how, but one never knows.

(Photos are from both
schools, courtesy of Penny Hynam - Blackman Gollop Primary, and Cheryl Hutchinson - Sharon Primary. I try not to show the faces of my young
listeners so it may seem like the pictures are mainly of me, but I hope that you get the idea of
what a great reading time we had.Please
note the extended arm in air, no doubt a branch of the mango tree.)

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About Me

I'm author of children's stories and editor of textbooks. My stories have been published in the UK, the USA and Jamaica. I have won a number of awards, including a Bronze Musgrave Medal from the Institute of Jamaica (2004) and the special prize for the best children's story by the Commonwealth Foundation (2011). I have prsented papers on children's literature both in Jamaica and overseas, and have run writing workshops both in Jamaica and the wider Caribbean.